


This Week On Disney The Walking Dead

by FoxEar



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Crack, Daryl to the rescue, Developing Relationship, Humor, M/M, Out of Character, Rick Has a Problem, Shane Walsh Lives, THIS IS CRACK GUYS, because this is crack, prison era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 12:01:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15291078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxEar/pseuds/FoxEar
Summary: Rick has a serious and a delicate problem... Daryl to the rescue.(Crack!Fic guys)





	This Week On Disney The Walking Dead

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote it, because I want to point out one big thing that's been happening on Ao3 lately... Apparently, people have stopped tagging their crack fics. Guys! TAG YO CRACK! K? Thx! 
> 
> Enjoy and laugh a bit :)

_Rick had a problem._ It wasn’t a usual problem, and it wasn’t something he could just talk about with anyone around - living in the prison wasn’t easy, you see. In fact, it was getting harder with every day. The situation was strained, people were getting more and more antagonistic… and with good reasons.

Just the previous evening someone had started a prank fight after the showers had been occupied for too long. The punishment for using too much of the icy water had been dealt out in dead rats and possums. Rick suspected it to be Hershel or Carol, especially when they started to turn up in strategic places. A few months back, he wouldn’t have suspected them, but as the time had gone by, they had both started to show some strange qualities.

Carol had changed from the apocalyptic walker killer back into a good housewife - a role that matched her character perfectly. Between cooking meals and cleaning up after everyone, she kept tabs on everything that was going on in the prison, even going as far as to organise birthday parties and actual wakes after every person they had lost. Rick could still remember that one time when a poorly timed birthday party had turned into a wake. The guest of honor had been the same person, too, but Carol had handled it _spectacularly_.

_He still didn’t understand why a few kids from the flourishing B block ran away when they had seen Carol smiling._

Being this well organised and creative, Rick suspected she could be the one behind the jokes involving dead animals, but he couldn’t be sure. Not when Hershel - a recently re-born pagan - was still on the table. The man had picked up paganism after he had lost his leg and, possibly, his _good book._ Rick had resolutely kept it to himself how Beth had used it to set a month’s worth of alcohol crates on fire.

_He suspected Daryl wouldn’t be happy about it, either._

Scratching his head, Rick looked around the empty C block, wondering where their mechanic-hunter-archer-provider-guardian-angel-unicorn was. His crossbow wasn’t anywhere to be seen, so Rick guessed that he had to find the weapon first. He made a wild guess bordering on conviction that Daryl would be attached to it somehow. The man never left it alone, he even took showers holding the damned thing. Rick had seen him a few times, wondering how he managed not to shoot himself in his ass when bowing to retrieve the fallen soap.

Not that Rick had been _looking._ No sir.

Rick was happily married to his wife, Lori, and loving her very much. They had sorted out the mess between them by agreeing that there had never been any mess in the first place. Shane admitted that he had never slept with Lori - had even promised on his own grave and crossed his heart _twice_ \- and Rick had no reason to doubt him. The fact that Lori was pregnant was just a normal progression of things when person A loved person B and they cuddled in the night… At least that’s what Carl had been saying since his first talk with Hershel on the topic, just before the good vet had started to sacrifice goats and deer to the ancient gods. Later on, Rick had stopped Carl from going to Hershel, slightly afraid their nestor would start Carl on a wrong path of agnosticism.

But Hershel’s lessons prevailed, and Rick had no doubt in his mind that they were all true - the man was a veterinarian after all, and before he had gone insane, he had been a man of god. So he apologized to Lori for distrusting her and went on with his life, not having anything other than brotherly feelings towards Daryl.

The tummy pats were only friendly.

_They were only friendly, damn it!_

And now Rick wanted to find him to ask about his _problem,_ but neither the mechanic-hunter-archer-provider-guardian-angel-unicorn, nor his trusted crossbow were in sight. The leader stood in the empty C block for some time, before he squared his shoulders and decided to walk out, facing the day. And his family. And friends. _And that deranged grandma from B block that kept nagging him about applesauce_. Rick wasn’t sure what the deal was with her, but she had been constantly mumbling something about her nephew who’s name was Aaron.

 

-&-

 

The sun hit Rick’s eyes as soon as he stepped out of the building. Shielding them with one hand, he raised his other in greeting, waving to all the smiling faces of people living with them. Old ones, young ones, _super young ones,_ they were all giving him toothy and toothless grins as soon as they saw him, thanking him for his unblemished leadership skills and considerate rule. Rick loved that, he loved the energy of people, _his people_ , reminding him of every great decision he had ever made. This was one of the moments when he truly appreciated being the head of this not-so-little-anymore group of survivors.

“Want some pizza, man?” Glenn popped out from the crowd, brandishing a slice of freshly baked Margherita. Rick looked at it surprised, making a mental note to thank _The Happy Man_ for the mozzarella cheese he could see on top of the pie. They had encountered this guy a few months back, when Rick had found his old friend, Morgan.

He and Morgan had met while Carl had been looking for a crib for his soon-to-be-born sister or brother. While exchanging brotherly hugs and kisses, Rick had noticed a goat standing directly behind his old time friend, and inquired about it. _Mostly because a goat with an AK-47 strapped to her back had looked a bit intriguing._

Morgan had shrugged and explained, that it had belonged to The Happy Man, his dear friend, who had been suffering from crippling depression. Rick had nodded in understanding and offered them shelter as well as a shoulder to cry on. Even back then, Rick had been well aware that keeping one’s emotions inside couldn’t possibly be healthy.

It had proved to be a great decision, for now they all had free mozzarella for their pizzas and Daryl had a goat to keep an eye on.

Rick decided to check the pen first, hoping he would find their mechanic-hunter-archer-provider-guardian-angel-unicorn there. He walked through the happy toothy-and-toothless crowd of people and marched on, passing Shane on his way. Rick smiled at him and made a little wave with his hand, to which Shane grinned and almost bowed in greeting. He was wearing denim overalls, a farmer’s hat set firmly on top of his head, marking him as the peaceful creature he had always been. Rick wasn’t really sure how he had ended up planting vegetables and cultivating bananas, but he was glad for it. They had an endless supply of tomatoes for their pizza now, after all.

“How is it going, Rick, brother?” Shane asked on a shout, grinning wildly. Rick could only smile back, feeling good and confident in the knowledge that Shane had their back, food-wise.   
“Have you seen Daryl?” Rick asked back, motioning with his hands as if he was shooting a crossbow.   
“Oh yes! Our lovely boy is sitting somewhere in the trees!” Shane pointed at the line of the forest, and Rick nodded in thanks. He started walking in that direction, hoping to find their mechanic-hunter-archer-provider-guardian-angel-unicorn there.

 

-&-

 

When Rick found him some time later, Daryl was indeed _sitting in a tree._ Biting his tongue against every stupid kissing joke he had ever heard, Rick called to him.   
“Hey! Daryl! Could you maybe… _climb down?”_ He asked, watching as the Daryl-shaped lump that had been perched on one of the branches moved slightly.   
“Whachawant?” The mechanic-hunter-archer-provider-guardian-angel-unicorn huffed out and Rick frowned.   
“I have a problem!” He shouted back.   
“Well. You have a problem not me!” The Daryl-shaped lump shrugged and Rick deflated a bit.

“It’s important,” he whispered, looking down at his feet.

There was a rustle above his head, and a moment later, Daryl flowed down like a waterfall, landing on his feet just a few inches from Rick. The leader looked up startled, then promptly went back to staring at his cowboy boots.   
“Well? Out with it!” Daryl said impatiently and Rick shook his head.   
“It’s…. _delicate,”_ Rick murmured in a voice so small, Daryl didn’t hear him.

Silence fell between them, broken only by an occasional snarl of a distant walker, a few cicadas, a bear farting _,_ a hungry wail of a baby, and two racoons making _love sweet love._ Rick winced, then cleared his throat.

“It’s…” he started, but his throat closed up on itself. Rick coughed. Then he sneezed, sniffling loudly. He cleared his throat, coughed again, and wiped at his nose. It tickled, so he stuck one finger into his left nostril, attempting to scratch it. It only ended in another bout of sneezing and coughing.

By the time he was done with it, Rick noticed Daryl turning back to the tree, reaching up with his hands as if he wanted to climb back up. He grabbed the mechanic-hunter-archer-provider-guardian-angel-unicorn by his arm and tugged him closer.   
“I _need_ you, Daryl!” Rick whispered with a dramatic sigh. Hi friend eyed him, then the hand that was gripping his godly, muscular biceps.   
“The fuck’s wrong with you, man?” Daryl asked, both eyebrows raising and disappearing in his hairline. Or at least that’s where Rick imagined them go, because he couldn’t even see Daryl’s eyes properly from behind the dirty, unwashed, messy, tangled bangs hanging all over his face.

“I… my… _Daryl!_ My _feet_ smell _bad,_ willyouhelpmeplease?” Rick rattled out, taking a big, steadying breath at the end of the sentence. He imagined Daryl squinting his already narrow eyes.

Then, without a word, Daryl nodded and got to his knees. He opened his backpack and dug out a few containers. Rick watched them suspiciously, but didn’t protest. He let Daryl tug his boots off, stifling a whine when Daryl threw them carelessly to the side. Rick didn’t even have time to react, before Daryl was pouring something wet and cold all over his toes. Next was some kind of a herb that the mechanic-hunter-archer-provider-guardian-angel-unicorn had in another box, dried and powdered. Then, once Rick’s feet looked like a chicken prepared for the oven, all spiced-up and glistening, Daryl took a handful of some kind of a white dust and threw it at Rick’s feet.

“There.” Daryl waved his hands in a few weird gestures which reminded Rick of witchcraft. “All done.” He got up, and before Rick could even open his mouth to thank, Daryl took a step forward, closing the remaining distance between them. “Next time, just _wash them,”_ the mechanic-hunter-archer-provider-guardian-angel-unicorn snarked. He threw his head back, chasing the hair away from his face, then leaned in, and Rick’s mind exploded.

He was seeing in color for the first time. The birds started to sing suddenly. There was a rainbow forming somewhere in the sky. The sun was shining so brightly that he felt blinded by the light of it.

Daryl was _kissing_ him. And not only that, he was kissing him with _passion,_ like a man _drowning…_ Rick moaned quietly, but it was loud enough to put the couple of racoons to shame - they actually went quiet.

When they finally parted, catching their breaths like two shored whales waiting for the rescue team, Rick looked at Daryl seriously.   
“I’m married,” he said, blinking rapidly. Daryl scoffed.   
“That’s what she said!” Daryl exclaimed, and Rick frowned.   
“Daryl, this is serious!”   
“Yo momma is so married, she wears a ring on each finger!” Daryl laughed, prompting Rick to chuckle, too.

Silently, they decided to get back to the prison - Rick walking right next to Daryl, with Daryl’s hand pushed behind his waistband and groping his ass. And if they startled the goat a few times, fucking like rabid rabbits in the shed, it was nobody’s business.


End file.
